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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543194">Parental Responsibility</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Dahlia/pseuds/Bella_Dahlia'>Bella_Dahlia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clint Barton's Terrible Family, Fluff with just a little spice, Gen, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Bucky Barnes, Road Trips, Snacks &amp; Snack Food, no betas we die like men, shameless flirting, this was a prompt, this wasn't me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:07:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Dahlia/pseuds/Bella_Dahlia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Road trips were the best. Clint would stand by that with his dying breath. Not because he liked driving (he really didn’t) or because he liked the open road (he was ambivalent) or because of a sense of freedom or zen or whatever some people got (he felt none of those things).</em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Road trips were the best because of road trip snacks.</em></p><p> </p><p>OR... The time that Clint accidentally tried to make Bucky run off the highway with the power of innuendo.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>101</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Parental Responsibility</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is apparently what happens when I look into the prompt channel when I'm actively avoiding starting on my first Big Bang ever. You're...welcome?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Road trips were the best. Clint would stand by that with his dying breath. Not because he liked driving (he really didn’t) or because he liked the open road (he was ambivalent) or because of a sense of freedom or zen or whatever some people got (he felt none of those things).</p><p>Road trips were the best because of road trip snacks.</p><p>There was literally no other instance available to him where he could purchase two different pizza variants of Combos, three different flavors of Pringles, a two pound bag of Twizzlers and a coffee the size of the hand of God, and not have the cashier bat an eyelash. And for that, Clint would always volunteer for the gigs that required traveling by car. </p><p>The rest of the Avengers knew better than to partner with him on the road, but Bucky—sweet, hot, gullible Bucky, he was new to the squad and his best friend was a punk, so no one warned him when he offered to accompany Clint to his stake out in Delaware. (Seriously, though, Delaware? Had AIM not gotten the memo about there literally being nothing in Delaware? It’s Delaware’s thing, how dare AIM try to encroach on that ineffable blandness.)</p><p>When Clint slid into the passenger seat, arms laden with his spoils, Bucky just stared with thinly disguised wonder. “Sure you got enough?”</p><p>“I was on the fence about those mini powdered sugar donuts, but I figured, need to watch my girlish figure,” Clint responded breezily. “Shit, did you want anything? Shoulda asked.”</p><p>Bucky blinked. “You’re gonna eat all of that yourself?”</p><p>Clint hugged the pizzeria pretzel Combos close to his chest. “I have needs. Pizza flavored needs.”</p><p>With a soft snort, Bucky started the car and pulled back onto the highway. “I just didn’t realize Stark had given you an Iron Stomach.”</p><p>“Ha, please, this indestructible stomach lining is brought to you by good old fashioned conditioning.” Clint pulled his shirt up enough to give his bare stomach a quick, appreciative pat. And if he lifted it slightly higher than necessary, and if he flexed just enough to show off a bit of ab definition, well, that was just him being a shameless show off. In the past months of Bucky integrating into Tower life, it had become apparent he was easy to fluster. After a quick bit of reconnaissance to confirm he wasn’t a prude, just still caught off guard by guys being able to be so open about screwing other guys, Clint decided this was a good natured game he could get behind. Plus there could end up being the added bonus of maybe eventually getting to make out. Sometimes his chaotic brand of seduction did pay off. On occasion.</p><p>For his part, Bucky kept his face front on the road, but with the way he swallowed and adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, Clint knew he had sneaked a look. “Is that part of SHIELD’s advanced tactics training?”</p><p>“That’s having to learn to feed yourself at the ripe old age of eight training,” Clint replied. He tried to keep his voice chipper and pithy, but it ended up sounding brittle instead. Internally he winced. Derailing his own terrible flirting by bringing up his shitty childhood of all things was a pretty pathetic move, even by Clint Barton standards, so he tried to pivot. “It’s fine, Natasha force feeds steamed vegetables every Tuesday and Thursday, we’ve got a system now.”</p><p>“Why were you feeding yourself at eight years old?” Bucky asked. He looked shockingly concerned about it, as if it were some still active tragedy to be avoided. Which, if Clint was being totally honest with himself and his tendency to create stockpiles of shelf stable snacks in the air vents, maybe it was still reverberating in his life… but that wasn’t a level of self-reflection he was prepared for on a midnight drive.</p><p>“Because my older brother is a useless dick?” Clint said with a shrug. </p><p>Bucky’s hands adjusted on the wheel again, fingers flexing and tightening as if he wanted to be wringing something. Clint had spent a decent amount of time wanting to wring Barney’s neck too, so he could appreciate the feeling. </p><p>“What about your parents?”</p><p>Normally Clint would backpedal away from the topic of his parents faster than Tony ducked out of debriefs, but something this time made him pause. Maybe it was a sign of finally beginning to come to terms with his past, or maybe because he knew Bucky had been having trouble connecting to the team and he didn’t want to cut short the first conversation the guy had instigated in weeks.</p><p>Or maybe it was because Bucky sounded like he genuinely cared what the answer was, and something about that made Clint’s chest ache with a delicate, almost happy pain.</p><p>“My father wasn’t just a useless dick, but a violent useless dick. And my Ma…” Clint swallowed back the heaviness that always came when he thought about his mother. “Ma tried to manage what she could. But that wasn’t a lot. S’not her fault. And then they were both gone and it was just me and Barney. But hey, I joined the circus, and, y’know, that definitely didn’t improve any eating habits but for an abandoned kid trope, it was a pretty okay one to fall into, I don’t know if you know, but I got some sweet archery skills out of it…”</p><p>“But it didn’t give you parents,” Bucky said, sounding almost pained. “Someone to look out for you, to put you first. God, why do all the adorable blondes in my life have a desperate need for some parents?”</p><p>Clint blinked, a grin starting to creep up on him unbidden. “You think I’m adorable?”</p><p>Bucky didn’t seem to hear him though. He nodded with the same fierce determination Clint had seen him use when going into bust a Hydra bunker. “Fuck it, fine, I can do it again. I’m your dad now.”</p><p>“Uh, what now?”</p><p>“I’m your dad. And your mom. Your… Dom.” There was a pause, a brief eternity when what Bucky said actually sunk in. Clint managed to hold it together until they exchanged a look, until he saw the slow dawning horror etching on Bucky’s features. “Shit, wait, no.”</p><p>Then Clint howled with laughter.</p><p>He laughed with his entire body, his arms literally clutching at his sides and tears beginning to leak out of eyelids. His breath came jagged through the hysterical bursts of laughter, and every time he thought he was getting it under control, he risked a look over in Bucky’s direction, and the process started again. Because while Bucky had an embarrassed flush to his face that was evident even in the dim of the night, he also was laughing; a near silent shake to his shoulders and his lips pulled in such a pretty grin. It was so easy to laugh, when Bucky was laughing with him.</p><p>It was when they were finally winding down, their mood contained down to the occasional chuckle, that Clint couldn’t resist any longer. “Hey Barnes?”</p><p>He waited until Bucky risked a glance off the road in his direction, and then Clint hit him with his most suggestive eyebrow waggle. “This mean I can start calling you Daddy?”</p><p>The way the car swerved abruptly to one side of the road as Bucky’s dropped jaw sent Clint back off the deep end with a peel of hysterical giggles. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Barton.” The car lurched to a stop as Bucky pulled them over onto the shoulder. “You can’t <em>do</em> that.”</p><p>The growl in Bucky’s voice made Clint’s mouth go dry, the laughter dying away as it was overcome by a brief thrill of arousal. Dammit, why did his scary murder voice have to be so sexy?</p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” Clint said, and he was thankful his giggle fit gave him an excuse to sound breathless. “My mouth is so rarely connected to my brain, just, no impulse control at all—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, really…” </p><p>No response came from Bucky immediately; just his dark eyes staring, a look painted on his face that could almost be described as <em>hungry</em>. The silence stretched so long that Clint opened his mouth to begin to apologize again, but then Bucky shook his head, a few stray locks of dark hair slipping from their messy bun. “The only thing you make uncomfortable is the fit of my pants, you fucking tease,” he grumbled in that same throaty tone.</p><p>Clint literally choked on air, his cheeks flushing as he coughed.</p><p>From the other side of the car, in the barely there light of the moon overhead, Bucky’s expression morphed, his brow quirking and a positively shit eating grin blooming on his face. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, Barnes, you—you’re a dick!” Clint wheezed, clutching onto the armrest as if he needed the support to stay upright.</p><p>Bucky shrugged, his grin growing softer. “Can’t be a dour, damaged shell of a human all of the time.”</p><p>“Hey, don’t talk about my Dad that way, I won’t stand for it.”</p><p>“Well, that’s not going to go away nearly as quickly as I would want it to.”</p><p>After checking his mirrors, Bucky pulled the car back out onto the highway, relaxing back into the driver’s seat as they got to cruising speed. Clint twisted in his seat, bringing one leg up under him as he studied Bucky’s profile.</p><p>“Did you really declare yourself Steve’s defacto parental units?” </p><p>A fond look came to Bucky’s face, one Clint had seen before whenever Bucky discovered a new memory had found its way back to him. “I sorta had to. He could use all the help he could get. The guy’s kinda a walking disaster.” </p><p>“You really have a thing for adorable blonde walking disasters, huh?” Clint asked.</p><p>Bucky glanced over. “Some more than others,” he said softly.</p><p>Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>Awesome.</p>
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